Date: Wed, 2 Jan 2008 04:03:52 -0800 (PST)
From: Gay Writer <gaywriter72@yahoo.com>
Subject: Promise Forsaken

The following is a complete work of fiction.  Any resemblance to
characters and real life persons is completely coincidental.  Please do
not copy or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Author reserves all rights to this story.

Disclaimer:

The following story contains violence and erotic homosexual situations
and content.  If it is illegal for you to read this, please leave now.
If after reading this disclaimer, you find yourself surprised by the
content, HUKED ON FONIKS didn't work for you!



Chapter 1


The Pact


	The thunder echoed in the distance as I sat at my computer.  There
was another storm brewing and I knew she'd be by my side.  It's what we
did.  Tornado, hail, or otherwise, she and I would sit together
contemplating life under the wood pavilion as we watched the white flashes
of light draw closer.

	"Ahhh come on.  You're no fun!"  Those were always the words that
drew her to me as I begged for company.

	I hung up the phone and tried to clean as much as I was able.  I
didn't want my best friend Jeana to see what a total slob I really was, and
it was just the motivation I needed to do the job.  She wouldn't have
commented either way though.  She knew me, and I knew her.  Neither of us
was particularly adept when it came to keeping an uncluttered home.

      From our first meeting outside of school, after a commencement
ceremony for National Spanish Honor Society, we became the best of friends.
The connection had been made.  I may be gay, but she has always been the
other half of my soul.  We knew the workings of each others' mind as much
as we knew our own thoughts.  I loved her, and still do.  Just... not in
that way.

      Jeana stood in my doorway as I clambered down the steps to meet her.
Her 5'2 frame seemed so much smaller as I looked down the long flight of
stairs and stumbled toward her.

      She wore the floor length black denim trench coat I had given her,
and the approaching flashes of lightning gave her voluptuous shape form.  I
could smell the lavender oil on her skin as it drifted up the stairwell.
She wasn't thin or extremely overweight, but what we had both agreed upon
as curvy.  Certainly she could lose a few pounds, but looking through my
eyes I only saw my beautiful best friend.

      "You always do this to me, Shane.  You know I have to work in the
morning."  Even though she spoke with a hint of warning in her voice I knew
she was just as happy to be there as I was to see her.

      "Come on it's almost here!"  I elbowed her in the side as I passed
and jogged toward 'The Pumpkin'.

      The Chevette was famous if only to our small circle of friends, and
Jeana had so named it 'The Pumpkin'.  It was bright orange and hauled us
around the country side at break neck speeds without fail.  It was not a
luxury car.  The cramped space made me suspect, should either of us fart,
that the door would inevitably blow open and render us onto the pavement to
our death.  Even though she drove like a maniac, and my foot print was
permanently etched into her floor board where a brake should have been, I
never once thought I was truly in harms way while she manned the wheel.
She is still the only person on this planet who I trust so completely, that
I can sleep soundly while laying in the passenger seat.

      It was because of her that I became the avid reader that I am today.
She handed me a book that night as we watched the storm roll in.  As usual
we rambled on about the nature of life and things we thought were so
simple.  The book was titled 'Queen of the Damned'.  I didn't think much of
it then.

      Eventually the storm passed and our evening came to a close.  We
drove the few blocks back to my shabby apartment and she left before having
seen the cleaning I managed earlier.  I pulled the book from beneath my
trench coat and laid it on the end table.  It wasn't so much that I wanted
to read the book, but that she had given it to me, that I protected it from
the rain.  It was hers, and she had given it to me on loan.  In my mind it
was a prized thing.  Of course... that fact didn't push me to read the
first pages until a few days later.

      Once I started reading, I was hooked.  I devoured every word of that
book in 2 days.  Jeana and I had always had an obsession with the
supernatural, and this fueled my fire all the more.

      It had always been our practice to walk the streets of New Windsor
and wander the rows of the local cemetery.  The seduction of the words I
read, and the moist night air as the cicada chimed in the darkness,
captured my heart.  This day wasn't more special than any other, but that
is when we made our pact.

      Under diamond dusted skies and in moonlit shadows, we agreed.  Should
either of us ever become a vampire, we'd come for the other.  It was our
sacred vow, and sadly one I would hesitate to keep.

      Oh... I became a vampire, albeit not as you might think of one, but I
didn't have the heart to condemn her to my world.  At least... not in the
beginning.

	The summer ended and Jeana surprised me with season tickets to the
local symphony.  One weekend a month we'd wear our most sophisticated
attire and wander out into the cool night air to culture ourselves.  The
'Pumpkin' was our chariot and whisked us into a world where we could be
someone else for one night.

      We'd begin the night by visiting our favorite coffee house.  It was
called 'All Kinds Of People' and that is exactly what could be found there.
I suppose some would call it a beatnik bar had it been another time.  They
served flavored coffee that could be sipped at any one of the mix matched
sets of tables, chairs, and furniture throughout the establishment.  In the
back were several shelves.  I guess I'm being generous here.  There were
only about six shelves total, but considering that all of them held gay
literature, made it a treasure to behold.

      Jeana and I order the most chocolate sweet thing we could find on the
menu that tickled our fancy.  The ritual was complex.  We would choose a
table situated amongst the people to draw attention to ourselves, but yet
far enough away that we could watch the freaks.  They weren't any freakier
than we were of course, and I suppose that is why we loved the place so
much.  We fit right in.

      The place became a staple to our outings.  Whether we were going to
the symphony, to a drag show at the local gay bar, or on a leisurely walk
along the Mississippi River, this was how our night began.  When we were
comfortable, we'd listen to people sing and play their guitar, and
inevitably sample each other's coffee.

      I suppose the strangest thing, looking back on it now, is that we
both watched the crowd of people thinking we were the normal ones.  I
suppose it made us the odd balls, but we didn't really think of it that way
back then and we didn't care.  We were out to have a great time.  We were
dressed in our finest, with our own sense of flair and style.  Not quite as
prim as those wearing a tux, and not as decadent as those in the coffee
shop, clad in their darkest most drab attire.

      The affect was subtle and violent in the funniest of ways.  We had
our own macabre formal sense of fashion, but it was as merged in spirit as
we were.  Most often I would wear black dress pants, black silk vest, and
trench coat.  In contrast I also wore a bright colored shirt of red or blue
beneath the vest, and shiny black healed boots.  My jewelry was arcane in
style to say the least.  I wore surgical steal cut rings, necklace and
earrings to match.  Nothing gaudy, but things with enough edge that when
you saw them you knew something wasn't quite right.

      Jeana and I both donned sunglasses.  While mine were more to hide
what I was looking at, hers were usually more feline in nature.  Leopard
print frames and opaque lenses hid her eyes while we gazed at our
surroundings.  Many times she wore a loud floral print backed in black with
only a see-through grey wrap to complete the shoulderless ensemble.  Other
days she would wear her black leather skirt and shear half sleeve blouse to
match.  Sometimes her shoes had a low heal, but Jeana was always a sensible
shoe girl.  There was no way she'd be caught unable to run and dive into
the ditch if the need were to arise.

      With all of this, there was her compact purse which always possessed
every necessity any one person might need at a given moment.  She was the
MacGyver of purses.  Though the small dangling black fringed and beaded
thing couldn't have been more than six inches wide and four inches tall, I
swear if the need arose, she could have produced a nuclear missile.
Whether it was a sewing kit, a breath mint, or safety pin, it was always
there in times of emergency for us, and any in need.

      Our last few encounters ended with our ritual walk about town and
with me watching her tail lights fade into the darkness.  Lately I had
taken it upon my self to walk the shadowed alleyways of town and the
cemetery again after she had gone.

      On more than one occasion I felt the pressure of eyes as I wandered
the streets.  Usually I figured it was nothing more than paranoia, but
sometimes... I knew someone was there.  I felt the weight of their gaze on
my shoulders as I would walk the sidewalks of our sleeping town.  I didn't
know his name until sometime later.

      Mine wasn't a happy world.  Violent nightmares stole most of my
night's sleep and the day light brought me challenges I didn't want to
face.  To avoid another year of persecution in high school as the token
homosexual, I graduated early.  Except for the few farm boys, jocks, and
idle acquaintances I blew behind closed doors, no one truly knew my darkest
secret.  'I liked it.'

      I had taken aspirin, sleeping pills, various poisons, and had even
cut my wrists.  Through each drama, I was able to hide my work, or explain
to people who didn't want to see the truth, how and why each accident had
happened.  I was and am after all... a master of words, or at least very
good at telling people exactly what they wanted to hear.

      My latest attempt was when I threw my car into the path of an
oncoming semi.  I figured the car would roll and the semi might finish the
job the road wouldn't.  Visions of churning twisted metal filled my mind as
I smiled and jerked the wheel.  The anticipated sensation was quickly
replaced by an ache in the neglected muscles of my ass as I settled back
into the car seat.  I was alive.

      The car spun along the highway and the semi gave it just the nudge it
needed to whirl around and into the grass filled median in the center of
the road.  Yet again... fate had screwed me.

      There was one saving grace that resulted from that little fender
bender.  I didn't have to go to work.  When I called to tell them I was
running late and why, they gave me the night off.

      That night I decided to walk alone instead of asking Jeana to join
me.  It was mid October and my breath made little clouds as I trudged along
the lamp lit streets.  The local cemetery was on the outskirts of town and
a good two mile hike from my second floor apartment.  Had I not been so
cheated earlier that day, I might have had a permanent place to rest.

      I rounded another corner and headed down the long gravel road that
led to the local cemetery.  Normally I could have been seen, but I broke
out the street light with a rock a couple of days earlier.

      The wind blew harder and I was thankful I let my muddy brown hair
grow past my shoulders.  It helped to protect my ears against the chill as
I pulled my trench coat tighter around me for warmth.  It wasn't long
before my paranoia peaked as I walked the dark lane to the cemetery, and I
stopped and turned to look behind me.  Of course there was no one there,
but I spoke anyway.

      "I know you're there.  Don't watch from the shadows, just finish me."
I waited and watched for long nervous seconds and finally sighed.

      In one of the many books I read recently, it said that if a person
sent out the right signals they might attract a vampire, so I steadied my
mind and thought as strongly as I could.  'Come feed on me.  Make me one of
you."

      Another ten or fifteen minutes passed as I felt the familiar press of
eyes against my back and I arrived at the gate to the cemetery.  I ambled
along and found my favorite grave.  An angel stood on the tallest monument
in the center of the cemetery.  It marked the resting place of Marcus
Blackwood.  It looked almost sinister in the moonlight as I gazed upon its'
shadowy features.  One arm was raised to the sky with a stone sword in hand
as it hung its head gazing some place below the earth.

      I turned and slouched against the cold stone and slid to the ground.
Even though my trench coat was wrapped around me I felt the cold seep
through the fabric and chill my flesh.  I pulled my legs close and rested
my head upon my knees.  Maybe the cold would take me if I sat here long
enough.

      I glanced up and looked out into the darkness.  Some twenty feet away
I saw two glowing yellow eyes staring back at me.  My instincts told me it
was a coyote or raccoon, but they glowed from a higher stand point that
hinted at something more human.

      Shivering from the cold and fear I spoke.  "I've been waiting for
you.  What took you so long?"

      Again the only sound was the whisper of wind through branches and the
flutter of dying leaves not yet fallen to the ground.  Suddenly the dark
figure shifted and was upon me.  I felt it pierce the flesh of my neck as
my head was wretched to the side.  My body tensed but I didn't struggle or
attempt to fight the thing off of me.  Even if this creature only offered
me death, I welcomed it.

      My body relaxed against the stone and I felt sleep pulling at my
mind.  Something told me it wouldn't be long now as I lingered in the last
moments of my life.

      "Not yet my friend, you have a promise to keep."  I heard a chuckle
in my ear as he pulled away from me.

      The darkness hid his features but I saw the hint of movement as he
brought his wrist to his mouth.  I heard a sucking sound and then watched
as his shadowy wrist moved toward my mouth.

      "Drink and live in death, or don't and die."  The moonlight edged
what I knew was blood on his wrist.

      It looked almost black in the moonlight as I leaned forward to drink
the silvery edged rivers that traveled down his skin.  At first I hesitated
but then lapped at the wound he had created for me.  I used my hands to
press his wrist against my mouth and drank greedily.  My stomach lurched at
the taste of death and decay.  I'm not sure what I expected, but for some
reason I had anticipated something sweeter.  What touched my tongue that
night was not life... I only tasted bitter death.

      Moments passed and my head swam in a euphoria I had never experienced
before.  The world seemed to shift around me and an ecstasy surged through
my body like liquid fire racing through my veins.

      Visions of blue and white light flashed across my mind as I slept,
though it was a sleep I didn't recognize.  I felt the incredible rush of
the world moving past me like a violent wind as I traveled forward.  If was
though I was on a journey somewhere when suddenly I was snapped back like a
rubber band.

      My eyes flew open and the sudden light erupted into a burning ache
within my skull.  I pinched my eyes shut and lifted my arms to block the
blinding light.  A low familiar chuckle slammed through my ears like a
marching band and I curled into the fetal position.  Every sensation was
magnified a hundred fold like some hang over of epic proportions.  The
smell of laundry detergent in the fabric I buried my face in threatened to
suffocate me.  Seconds later my stomach lurched and I threw up and
shuddered as the splash of heavy liquid surged out of me.  I groaned and
the sound of my own misery assaulted my ears making me feel that much
worse.  It was when I felt and smelled my own shit that I began to cry.

      "Shhhh Be still.  Your body is dead now.  We'll have you cleaned up
soon enough."  Even though he whispered, the words seemed to explode within
my ears like the crashing roar of a waterfall.

      I felt his arms lift me into the air, and then lower me into velvet
warmth.  I was beginning to feel less like hammered shit as the moments
passed, but still didn't have the will to open my eyes.  I felt a soft
cloth working the length of my body as I groaned from every sensation and
trickle of water as it rolled down my skin.

      Again I was lifted by strong arms and then lowered into another warm
pool of water.  I knew it was a tub and I began to wonder how long this
dream would last.  I must have fallen asleep against the gravestone in the
cemetery.

      "You're not dreaming Shane.  Open your eyes."  His voice was low in
timber and I could only guess the accent to be something European.

      I opened my eyes slowly and stared mesmerized at the lights scattered
throughout the room.  Around every surface and edge was a halo of light
that writhed with more color than I had ever seen before.  It was as though
every inanimate object was alive.  The candles that dotted every corner of
the room glowed with such light it almost burned my eyes.  They looked like
starbursts swaying in a gentle breeze.

      I turned my head to the side to see my host kneeling on the floor
beside me.  He was shirtless and his lower body was hidden by the ridge of
the deep porcelain tub.  His long straight black hair fell past his
shoulders to some place lower than I wasn't able to view.  I studied the
curve of his square jaw, high cheek bones, and wide set eyes.  He looked
like an Indian from a tribe long since forgotten.  A exquisite pain
exploded within my chest and I shuddered.

      "Do not look at me with hunter's eyes Shane.  Relax your mind.  I am
not your prey" He smiled and tilted his head as he gazed at me.  It was a
strange if not animal like gesture you might expect from a lion before
becoming its next meal.

      'Prey' Once the word was spoken I focused on his neck and saw the
arteries carrying his blood.  They seemed to call and rise from beneath his
flesh and begged me to rip them from his body.  Without thinking I lifted
my arm from beneath the water and reached to touch that sensitive spot.

      A burst of light and pain blazed across my cheek.  "You will do as
you are told so long as you are mine."  It was only his open hand that
struck me, but it fell like a sledgehammer.

      "I belong to no one."  The odd resonance of my voice startled me.
There was a mix of voices coming from me I was not familiar with, and yet
there were traces of myself that lingered in the strange chorus.  A
strength was building within me.

      Another explosion of pain filled my chest and I doubled over.  I felt
a flutter within my heart, and emptiness echoed from beneath my sternum.

      "Am I a vampire now?" I listened as my words bounced back from the
empty stone walls.

      "You are what I have made you and more.  You... are Nightbreed.  Rise
and come to me."  His sinister smile did little to comfort me as my body
rose out of the water of its own volition.

      I felt like a puppet on strings I could not see, and still I
resisted.  "You are mine!"  He chuckled as he spoke.

      His body seemed to cloud over as darkness centered on his form and I
was pulled from the tub.  Each labored step I took drew me closer until I
stood before him.

      "NO!" My scream echoed against the walls as I struggled to move away
from him.

      I couldn't step back, but I was able to stop myself from falling into
his arms even though I craved their comfort.  The yearning in my heart drew
me forward but I resisted.  "You do not own me."

---

Any and all comments/criticisms are more than appreciated.  It's what
keeps us writers motivated, so give me a yell.  You can contact me at
gaywriter72@yahoo.com I hope that everyone has a great holiday and a
fantastic new year.